“What about your truce?” asked Mason.
Dad looked at him like he was crazy. “You think that means anything?”
“Maybe she’s more mature than you are and has stopped trying to prank you?”
Dad scoffed. “The only question is what she’ll do. Clingfilm over the toilet bowl?” He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “No, that’s too ordinary. Fake blood vials in the cistern? A dismembered mannequin head that pops out when you lift the lid? Or—”
“Wait,” interrupted Nat. “What?”
Iola wrinkled her nose. “Ewww.”
Asher shook his head. “I’m not sure even Trixie would do something so—”
“Are you talking about me?” Trixie sauntered back into the room.
“Did you booby trap the toilet?” Nat was chewing her lip. “I need to go, but I really don’t want to see a dismembered head.”
Trixie’s brow furrowed. “Excuse me?”
“Don’t act innocent,” growled Dad. “What were you doing in the bathroom?”
Trixie drew herself up with an indignant sniff. “You think I’d stoop so low as to leave something in the toilet bowl?”
“What about the cistern?” Nat edged toward the bathroom, a look of discomfort on her face, like she really needed to go.
“I’m outraged you’d accuse me.”
“No bloody handprints in the shower?” demanded Dad. “You haven’t blocked the faucet or the drain?”
“You should see a professional about your paranoia.” Trixie sat back down. “Though it’s satisfying to realize how my pranks must have traumatized you over the years.” She pulled a bright red candy out of her sleeve like a magician, unwrapped it, and put it in her mouth with a flourish.
Dad huffed. “My pranks were better than yours.”
“Want me to take you home?” I asked Nat.
She shook her head. “I can’t wait.” She disappeared down the hallway in the direction of the bathroom.
Trixie crunched on the candy. “Your silly pranks were minor inconveniences, Edward. Barely memorable.”
“Oh yeah? What about the time I put the ‘Too Stoned To Steer’ bumper sticker on your car? I know you got pulled over.”
“The policeman was handsome. He flirted with me.”
“Slapping on handcuffs doesn’t count as flirting.”
“How would you know?” Trixie lifted her eyebrows. “When was the last time someone flirted with you? Had you just taken them out for a nice dinner of roasted dinosaur?”
Dad puffed out his chest. “I’ll have you know, all the ladies think I’m a hot stud muffin.”
I winced. Of all the things I wished I’d never heard, my father referring to himself as a hot stud muffin made my top ten list. And by the looks on my brother’s faces, they felt the same way.
Trixie folded her arms and smirked. “You’re one percent hot stud, ninety-nine percent muffin.”
“Yeah? Well you’re—”
Dad was cut off by a bloodcurdling scream.
I leaped from my chair, my heart pounding. So did my brothers. Before any of us could rush to the door, I heard the bathroom door fly open, then Nat staggered into the dining room, her face pale.
“Nat! Are you okay?” I grabbed her arm, while Mason rushed to her other side. “What happened?”
“Spiders! Giant spiders! Hundreds of them!” Nat’s voice was high. “They attacked me!”
“Spiders?” Mason shot me a bewildered frown.
“They attacked you?” I repeated.
Nat’s chest was heaving up and down. “They were tarantulas. Hairy legs and fangs. Beady eyes.”
I swung around to glare at Trixie. She had her head down, her hand over her mouth. Her entire body was shaking with silent laughter.
“What did you do?” I demanded.
Trixie lifted her face, her hand still clamped over her mouth. But she couldn’t keep her laughter in anymore and it spilled from between her fingers. Her face was bright red and tears sprang from her eyes. She was laughing too hard to speak.
“Another prank?” Mason folded his arms over his wide chest.
Asher disappeared down the hallway. He came back with something in his hand and held it up. “About a dozen rubber spiders are on the bathroom floor. Their legs wobble.” He held it between finger and thumb and waved it up and down.
“They leapt out of the toilet roll!” Nat’s eyes focused on Trixie, narrowing into a glare. “They must have been stuffed into the toilet roll with some kind of launch mechanism. When I pulled on the tissue, they shot out. They all flew at me at once, an airborne spider attack!”
Trixie dropped her hand from her mouth and doubled over, abandoning all efforts to hold her laughter in.
Carlotta shook her head. “Mom, that’s an awful trick to play!”
Dad’s hairy eyebrows trembled as he chuckled. “I have to admit that’s a good one,” he said between guffaws. “Flying spiders.”
“Airborne arachnids,” muttered Iola. She was pinching her lips together, her eyes sparkling. “Did any perform tailspins?”
Mason snorted. Then he cleared his throat. “We shouldn’t joke.” He put his hand over his mouth and turned away.
Either Trixie’s laughter was contagious, or there were other very interesting things to look at, because everyone in the room suddenly had their faces averted.
I took a deep breath, determined not to laugh. Putting my arm around Nat, I pulled her close. “Ignore them. It must have been a traumatic experience.”
“All those legs!” She shuddered, then glanced around the room. Her frown gave way to a reluctant half-smile. “Okay, maybe they weren’t quite as big as tarantulas. But when they hurtled at me, I didn’t have time to whip out a ruler.”
Still chuckling, Dad stood up to take the rubber spider from Asher. “Where did you get them?” he asked Trixie.
“The Practical Prankster website.”
He nodded his approval. “I’ve used that site myself.”
I dropped my face close to Nat’s ear. “You’re okay now?”
“I may never use toilet paper again.”
“I’ll install a bidet,” I promised. “Actually, I’ll make Trixie and Dad get you a bidet. It’s the least they can do.”
I was glad to see her smile widen, even if it still looked a little shaky. “If they get me one, it’ll shoot slime instead of water. Remind me to add two new characters to my novel so I can make them die horribly.”
“It’s what they deserve.” I squeezed her shoulders. “Come
